The 76th Hunger Games
by Lady Felon
Summary: Every moment in life, every split-second, every breath, every heartbeat- all of it is leading up to some pivotal thing. Something huge. Something so big it might kill you… or worse, leave you alive.
1. Form

Submit Your Own Tribute. The 76th Hunger Games.

**Rules: **

No Marry Sues/Jerry Stus. No lavender hair, or naturally pointy canines, or other odd/unlikely attributes. There won't be ten romantic pairings in this story. I am minimizing it to a total of about three or four (and I might decide later that even that is too much). No history of having blood relation to any member of the Jonas Brothers band. I think you catch my drift. All tributes from districts 6-12 will be REAPED. Katniss' situation was a rarity, not a fad. If your tribute is from District 12 he/she will not be an avid hunter- sorry, but that's way too unoriginal. I'm trying to be as realistic as I can here. The appearance thing doesn't bother me so much because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so there are no restrictions in that area. Fill out the whole form please AND PM it to me.

There will be five bloodbath characters (which I will make). If in seven days time I do not have all my tributes I will allow those who have already submitted to do so again.

**Form: You may submit one tribute. **

**Please title your PM with the NAME of your character! Thanks!**

Name:

Gender:

District:

Age:

Personality:

Appearance:

Weapon:

Family/History:

Reaction to Reaping/Reason for volunteering:

Skills:

Weaknesses/fears (3 minimum):

Allies?:

Romance?:

Interview Strategy:

Cornucopia Strategy:

Games Strategy:

Interests/dislikes:

Optional: Reaping outfit:

Other:

**Mentor Form: Optional**

Name:

Age:

Personality:

Appearance:

Strategy:

Games Won:

When it comes time for the interviews, you may PM me an outfit if you wish. I'm not doing sponsor points. They're a total hassle and a complete mess and only cause issues for myself and my readers. The more you review, the more likely it is your character will survive. I will also have a poll set up asking which tributes should be killed off and which should live- it will somewhat influence your character's future. The quality of your review will also count towards your OC's possible chances at winning.

I am considering arranging my first twelve chapters to introduce each character in this way: four Reapings, four train rides, four chariot races. Would you rather all tributes have a Reaping chapter? Or do you wish to get to the games as quickly as possible? It's up to you, dear readers.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Here's a tiny drabble so this chapter isn't just an author's note:

The Liberation of an Avox

The Avox held the blade tightly between his thumb and index finger, his skin bone white. He could end it all. A gentle, careful slice across the underside of his thin wrist. He could see the vulnerable, delicate blue veins and probed them with the tip of the knife, musing. Did this make him weak? Did it make him a coward? Most certainly. But he didn't care. Anything to nullify the pain... to free himself of this prison. An inescapable nightmare- even a child could find some release in a scream. To let the fear rip from his chest with a roar, until his vocal cords were shredded, blood like glue in his throat... but he would never speak a whisper. The capitol had trapped him in his own personal hell, a snare so intricate a God could not liberate him. He was a mouse cornered by a feral cat. A fish caught in the claws of an eagle. A rabbit in the jaws of a bloodhound.

He was a slave...

...and there was only one way out...

...he took it.


	2. District Listing

**District Listing**

A/N: This list will be updated around the clock. This will be where you can find brief summaries of all the characters and will be kept informed of their current situations in the games (ex. injuries, allies, kills). First come first serve. I (as the author) will be narrating this chapter like… a narrator, if you will.

* * *

Ahem. I take a sip of sweet iced tea, licking the sugary coating off my bottom lip with a satisfied smack and try not to be distracted by the sound of my brother putting a trash bag in the kitchen garbage can. Apparently I'm giving him the stink eye because he's looking at me with the innocence and unawares of a wrongly convicted felon. I return my attention to the screen, checking my inbox for messages. Aha! There are three; three wonderfully constructed tributes, three individuals, all at my mercy, their fate in my sweaty palms. Three females. Not much of a surprise. The girl slots always fill up first. I myself have submitted only a handful of males to other SYOTs.

This is when I see the young boy who spent the night at our house walk into the kitchen where I sit with my laptop at the dining room table. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, mucus on his lashes, the corner of his mouth is crusted with… something.

"Hey, Logan."

"Hey" He offers groggily.

I proceed to make the second grader who calls me 'beautiful' at every inappropriate opening a plate of scrambled eggs and pour him a glass of water. He eats in the living room, fighting off the cat as he simultaneously watches cartoons.

Cracking my knuckles and popping my neck, I place my fingertips upon the keyboard. They fly. The sound of typing is like music to my ears. I frown when I become stuck, struggling for the right words and conquering the urge to exploit the assistance of the thesaurus.

This is what I come up with. I sit back, gulp down a swallow of tea, and hit save.

* * *

D1 Female: Lilian Huntington is a career, but not your typical 1D tribute. Beneath the mask of a warrior is a young girl desperate to live up to her family name and her father's expectations. Are the dreams of a normal life enough incentive to push this girl to win? Or will her distaste for killing be the end of her? Submitted by mnbvcxz-xx

D1 Male: The villain. Every story has its antagonist and Braxton Graham could quite possibly be our man. At the towering height of 6'3 and with a superiority complex to match this spear throwing menace is a shoe in to win… right? Or will his seemingly cold heart and insatiable hunger for control get in the way of victory? Submitted by Blueandgreen91

D2 Female: Emma Rose Riley is a breath of fresh air. An athletic prodigy, she's seems not only destined for, but made to play the Games. Is training alone enough to get her to the end? Or will her outgoing nature and lack of aggression repel any possible alliance with a career, and thus, her chance at victory? Submitted by XxXTheGirlOnFireXxX

D2 Male: Bruten Brady is living in his sister's shadow, but hopefully not for long. Career training all his life, can this likable killing machine put his training and determination to work and achieve his ultimate dream of becoming a Victor? Or will the most popular tribute to be let his District down? Don your Mohawk with pride, Bruten, and avoid small spaces, you have a fighting chance. Submitted by Flintlightning

D3 Female: A split personality. One girl, calculating and deranged, can see you dying fifty different deaths. The other is willing to risk her own neck to keep orphaned children fed. An orphan herself, can Lily Waters rise from the ashes of her past and conquer the darkness within? Or is she destined to be a merciless killer, hell-bent on extracting revenge? Submitted by Lighty7

D3 Male: The brainiac. Benjamin Jameson fits the bill, to a T. However, he's not your typical nerd whose father makes fancy gadgets for the Capitol- in fact, his background is quite the opposite. Raised in an orphanage alongside the slightly deranged Lilly Waters, will his intelligence and tricks be enough to keep him out of trouble? Or will his obsession with solving equations like Miss Waters be his downfall? Submitted by

D4 Female: Some might call her the spawn of Satan, but never to her face. Daughter of District Four's last female Victor, it seems all bets are on the control freak, Minnow Reidder. Her intense training and lust for power are sure to aid her in the pursuit of triumph, but is the building pressure of a life devoted to the Games a ticking time bomb? Submitted by Pikachu's Tail Wags

D4 Male: Alejandro Xavier Guiterrez keeps to himself, and perhaps not necessarily out of choice. Deeply rooted in his Mexican heritage, Xavier speaks very little English. Bullied in school for his social and physical flaws, can this quiet tribute unleash the fighter within and snatch the victory? Or will his reserved nature and history of being the victim play a larger role than desired in his attempt to survive? Submitted by JustAWriter167

_Sponsors:_

_1.) Miss Oswin Oswald: 50 points_

D5 Female: Stuck in the most unusual love triangle, the dry witted Ariadne Sole hasn't the slightest clue she's about to be thrust into the lion's den. Can this intelligent, raven haired beauty talk and lie her way out of death? Or will her absolute lack of knowledge of fighting and surviving off the land destroy any hope she has of coming out alive? Submitted by Dream Of Venice

D5 Male: **Bloodbath**

D6 Female: Orchid Dunbryll is a beautiful name, but that's about the only good thing this morphling addict has going for her. Apathetic parents, a deceased brother and a life of poverty have drained her of any motivation or hope. Can her street smart survival skills and sheer will to live push her to victory in the Games? Or will her struggle without drugs and her depressive tendencies be her demise? Submitted by Evaelin

D6 Male: Darien Hujsak is the life of the party, and at that precarious young age of 14 is willing to do anything on a dare. With eight brothers and sisters, will this hotheaded take advantage of his own insanity and give the gamemakers the hell they deserve? Or will his outrageous antics and pride end up getting him into heaps of trouble? Submitted by ArabianLover16

D7 Female: The blackmailer. Laurel Forester knows everything worth knowing about everyone worth exposing in her District. Born with a silver spoon her mouth, can she take advantage of her skills as a sort of Mentalist and bend the other tributes to her will? Or is she going to mess with the wrong person and end up at the tip of their blade? Submitted by Tardis Rose

D7 Male: Every pack has its lone wolf, and in this instance Obsidian Everest plays the part of the outsider. Suffering from depression brought on by a nightmarish crime committed against him, will the torment ruin any hope he has of surviving the games? Or will he use this as motivation to avenge his sister's death and take the victory? Submitted by DomiHearts1497

D8 Female: Eloise Marlott is out of the frying pan and into the fire. A social butterfly with all the makings of a future trophy wife, this lanky young lady who is trapped in an arranged marriage doesn't seem like she'll amount to much in the arena. Her legs take her far during her early morning jogs, but can they take her all the way to a victory? Submitted by I Write Sins Not Tragidies

_Sponsors:_

_1.) abnegations: 50 points_

D8 Male: **Bloodbath**

D9 Female: A life of prostitution, no place to call home, and a broken body and mind, Carmen Milo has every excuse to be angry with the world. With an addict for an uncle the only person to call family, will the Games turn out to be her only hope of escaping this life of poverty? Will she see it as a blessing in disguise? Or will her bottled up emotions get the better of her? Submitted by MarinaDelSpears

D9 Male: Sakaya Ivashkov is the type of guy that people cross the street to avoid. Introverted, alone, and feeling every bit the failure, can he prove his own suspicions wrong and push past his mental and physical boundaries to take home the title of Victor? Perhaps if he puts his competitive nature to work and watches where he steps. Submitted by xDisgraceful Avengerx

D10 Female: A prepubescent teen dumped into the lap of her grandparents by gambling addicts, Chive Morels has learned to grow up fast. Smart as a whip, with a temper to boot, can this 13 year old girl employ her ability to strategize and snatch the victory? Or will her childish temper and youth prove to be the fatal hindrances everyone expects? Submitted by Axe Smelling God

D10 Male: **Bloodbath**

D11 Female: The wannabe. There's not a hair out of place on Valery Zimons. Though she comes from a poor background, you wouldn't know judging by her put-together appearance and sparkling character. Can she trick the other tributes into protecting her throughout the Games? Or will someone see straight through her and end it all? Submitted by whereisthekoolaidat

D11 Male: **Bloodbath**

D12 Female: **Bloodbath**

D12 Male: When food gets short and money gets tight Jason Aulditre likes to clear his head with after curfew strolls. This shadow dwelling chick magnet could be someone's guardian angel, but will his motor mouth and rebellious streak do him more harm than good? Or will his stealth make him one of the most formidable combatants in the arena? Submitted by Ashbringer36

* * *

And so, with these 19 tributes (and five bloodbaths) the games will commence. Only one can come out alive. The rest can only hope to entertain.


	3. Sponsor Points (had to put it back up)

Sponsor Points and Other Rules (Don't get mad at me for killing/maiming your tribute b/c you failed to read the guidelines)

I know I said I wouldn't do sponsor points, but I've changed my mind after discussing a possible way to make the system easier with my sister. As some of you might know (SYOT authors), it is very difficult and trying to keep up with how many reviews each person has submitted, characters, mutt ideas, etc.

So here's what I'm going to do- let you 'campaign' for your own sponsors. If you have friends on FF that you think might be interested in sponsoring your tribute, tell them to contact me via PM and I will give them 50 sponsor points automatically. You can gather up to **3** sponsors (any more than that and I think I would blow a gasket trying to keep up with all of them and how much they've spent). Another good idea would be to request that your readers sponsor your tribute. If you have your own SYOT in which you are doing sponsor points as well, I will PM you which of your followers decided to sponsor your character (so you, in turn, can give _them_ points).

**RULES: PLEASE READ!**

The potential sponsors MUST title their PM with the word SPONSOR and must also include the NAME of the tribute they are sponsoring. Example: **Sponsor of Lilian Huntington**

I will NOT accept a PM that is not titled in this way. I am not going to fish around my inbox wading through messages to find your sponsors.

Only** 3** sponsors per tribute.

A list of items and their prices will be posted on my profile, but not until the Games start.

**All** tributes will endure a trial of some kind. Some may require medicine, clothes, food, water, weapons, etc. Towards the end of the Games, I will start pulling 'trials' out of a hat to see which tributes will be injured, dehydrated, unarmed (or whatever is convenient for plot purposes). This will happen when I get down to the last few whose creators (you guys) are loyal reviewers/followers of the story and ALL the characters, not just their own OC.

As I said there will be a poll set up for voting which might hinder/facilitate your character's victory as well, so that will factor into their health/supplies.

The quality of your review WILL affect the future of your tribute and the likelihood of him/her winning the Games. For example, if you write 'Great chapter. Hope Braxton lives. I can't believe Lily said that! Can't wait for the next one!' That will not count as a 'quality' review (though I still appreciate the nice thoughts).

What is a quality review, you may ask? Here are some tips:

Mention more than a couple of tributes

Point out any grammatical/spelling errors

Don't whine about your tribute not having something

Mention some plot twists you found to be interesting

Reflect on something you liked/disliked

Write more than three five word sentences.

Those are just a few things that make a review an enjoyable thing to read. Just tell me what you think and be honest. Of course, all reviews will count as incentive to keep your character alive (even the two word ones), but for how long (when compared to other reviews) is the question.

I am not trying to fish for reviews. I'm just trying to find a fair way to eliminate tributes (and let's face it, all but one has to die). If my writing is so terrible that it leaves you brain dead and you just don't know what to say, then I accept full responsibility of that failure.

Ugh, I know this was kind of long, and it seems like there's a lot here, but really it's not that complicated. I tend to be rather wordy even when it isn't necessary.

Also, for those of you who care, I will be writing 12 Reaping chapters. It shouldn't take too long, so no tears.

Um, I think that's pretty much it. Happy sponsor hunting.

This chapter will be removed once all tributes have been submitted.

Here's a little story for you guys so this isn't just an author's note:

Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water.

When they got to the top, Jill pushed him down,

And took off with his crown,

But didn't make it far 'cause he shot her.

Now Jill's got one leg,

And Jack a big head,

And I sent that lame nursery rhyme to literary slaughter.


	4. District One Reapings: Daddy Issues

**A/N: You guys… it's here. The first chapter. So, I'm not going to be doing a lot of author's notes (hopefully), but I wanted to take this time to say thank you for all the wonderful tributes. You might find that I throw an extra ingredient into their recipes, but I want there to be a little something unexpected for all of you. I didn't realize this first chapter was going to be so damn long. I figured it'd be around 4,000 words, but that dang ol' Lilian just took all the authority away from me and was in complete control of the chapter. She just wouldn't shut the hell up! You have her to blame. **

**P.S. I'm doing disclaimers so that you all can see your tributes in a playful sort of light (it'll only happen 12 times). They're funny. If you don't like that then TOO BAD!**

**Now, disclaimer time! **

"**Hey, Lilian, Braxton, get your patooties over here and do the honors!"**

***Both race to get to the disclaimer first, Braxton trips Lilian and laughs, not watching where he's going and catching his toe on a rock I throw into his path. He falls on his face and I run for my life, climbing onto a floating pedestal***

"**Don't be such a baby Braxton! And quit punching each other! We're not even to the games yet… yeesh, morons."**

"**What did you just call us?" **

***gulps* "Nothing." **

***Braxton puffs his chest up like Tarzan* "That's what I thought." *he pushes Lilian away from him and she lands the totally inconceivable distance of a mile away. He walks across the stage… wait, a stage? Where the hell did that come from?!* **

"**Lady Felon does not own The Hunger Games, or its characters she-"**

***Lilian is back and running at him, a bat held high above her head, roaring like a caveman- er, woman***

***I laugh* "Oh shit! You better run! Hustle bitch!"**

***Lilian chases after her district partner… crap… they're going way too far, you guys should just go ahead and start reading. And uh, don't worry… I'm sure I can catch them before they find their way out of the internet…***

**Rated T for cursing and Hunger Games sauce. Please notify me of errors, please?**

**District One Reapings: Daddy Issues**

**Lilian Huntington, D1**

"SURPRISE!"

The lights come on and Lilian Huntington's heart leaps into her throat as she chokes on her post workout protein shake. Coughing and sputtering, she tries to regain some amount of dignity and composure whilst neighbors and extended family cheer and laugh, a strange middle age woman placing a plastic silver crown on her head and a bouquet of red roses in her free hand. Lilian, the front of her shirt covered in cottage cheese and blended banana, blushes cherry red. "Can I get a towel?" She watches in exasperation as a parent ushers their child to retrieve one, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes wide as she takes in the scene. Balloons and streamers pollute the room, kids are running about in pointy party hats, adults are already dipping into the wine from her father's cellar… it's a nightmare.

Grimacing, she pulls her wet collar off her chest. "What's all this about?

The unfamiliar woman who had been the first to approach her smiles dolefully. "For the Reapings silly!" She begins to pick confetti out of her dirty blonde locks, the proximity and intimacy of the act making Lilian uncomfortable. "Your dad's been planning this party for a couple of months now!"

Lilian swallows hard, feeling ridiculous in her soiled attire, a child's tiara atop her head, her dripping shake substituting a scepter

She eyes the woman in disbelief. "He… he did this?"

"Uh-huh." She grins and grabs her by the elbow, tugging Lilian further into the room. People clap her heartily on the back, smiling and shouting congratulatory praises at her. "Who are these people? Who are you?"

The hostess frowns disappointedly. "You mean to say that you don't know who I am?" Lilian shakes her head, unable to recall any notion of having been associated with the bubbly lady. "I'm your uncle Drake's wife's sister! I'm Crystal! We met when you were about five. I can't believe you don't remember. I gave you a bracelet… or was it a dress? It was some kind of present." The woman continues to babble incessantly as Lilian is finally brought a towel. She cleans herself as best she can, nearly scrubbing a hole into her tank. She tries to keep from scowling. How could her father do this to her? Practically all her life she's been his sheltered pupil, not having any friends or parties since the age of six, the same year her brother won his Hunger Games, and he decides to spring this on her the day of the Reapings? He must've thought it would boost her morale or something…. He certainly didn't do it so she would be showered with gifts. She needed to focus! How did he possibly expect her to get her head in them game when people were decorating it with children's toys? Speaking of the devil, where was he anyway?

"Here," Crystal shoves a plate of cake in Lilian's face, taking the half empty protein shake from her. "Have some! It's divine!" She gushes. "My sister had it commissioned especially for you!"

"Your sister?... My aunt?" She takes the plate with a frown, knowing she won't eat a bite. She hadn't eaten something packed with so much trans-fat since she was a toddler.

"Of course!" She cocks her head, confused. "You must remember who your own aunt is! You can't be that secluded? I know you're all about the training, but no one is _that_ dedicated… that's like an obsession!"

Lilian snorts, looking down at the roses. "You have no idea." _But it's not my obsession_, she wants to say. She keeps her mouth shut, vying for silence. _No reason to start rebelling now, it's too little too late_. She picks at the vanilla cake with a silver fork, trying her best to put names to faces as countless guests are 'reintroduced' to her.

"I can't believe how fast time has gone by! It seemed that just yesterday you were wearing your hair in braided pigtails, playing a fairy in that lovely little play your school did every year!"

Lilian raises a brow at her 'cousin', her curiosity piqued. "I was in a play?"

He grins and nods, "You were pretty young. Maybe six or so. But you loved it! We used to come over to your house all the time for family get-togethers, and you would rehearse for us. You were always so taken with acting and dressing up," He takes a sip of wine and smiles fondly. "But ever since your brother came home Victor, well… let's just say none of us have seen much of you. How's school going? You're what? A senior now? God that makes me feel old."

A couple of people laugh as her supposed relation rubs the bridge of his nose in dejection. Lilian plasters a smile on her face, feeling like she's pulling her lips over her teeth in a snarl rather than portraying some happy emotion. "I dropped out a long time ago."

Her relations gasp, covering their mouths in horror. Crystal's brows draw together in sympathy and she reaches out a hand and squeezes her shoulder gently. "I can't believe you would sacrifice so much for the Games. But I'm sure it'll all be worth it when you come home a Victor."

"Speaking of which, are you nervous?" A young woman asks. Lilian had already forgotten her name, though she prided herself on having the possession of a near perfect memory. _It must be the pressure._

_Yes. _"No. I've been training for this for a long time now; it'd be kind of silly to go through all that hard work just to be sick on the day I have to put it to use."

Crystal smiles. "Well nobody's _forcing_ you to do it. You don't_ have_ to do anything you don't want to, especially when it comes to such a commitment like the Games."

Lilian stares at Crystal for a moment, and looks away, wishing she could have been born with a different last name. _I would end up with the parents who are willing to risk their kid's_ _neck for a title. _"Yeah, well it _is_ something I want to do. It's my dream." _My dad's dream. _She looks back at her sort-of-aunt, mouth pursed. "Where's my dad at? And my brother? Shouldn't they be here?"

"I can't tell." She pulls an invisible zipper over her lips, locking them at the corner and dropping a 'key' down her shirt. "It's a surprise!"

Lilian scowls, unable to help herself.

The so called cousin grins. "I take it you don't like surprises?"

She shakes her head so hard she hits herself in the eye with end of her ponytail. It stings like hell. _I've been trained to expect everything, _she wants to say. "I'm not a big fan of them."

_It's freaking loud in here._ She massages her temple, closing her fist against the blaring music and suppressing a sigh. What she wouldn't do for a couple of ear plugs. Heck, if she was being wishful, what she wouldn't do to fall into another dimension, a world void of evil and training and the _Games. _Strangers converge on her and she hates it. She feels like they're a pack of wolves closing in, like they all want a piece of her. She thinks Crystal must notice her anxiety because the older woman starts to guide her to the kitchen where the crowd is thin, spouting nonsense about fixing Lilian her first real drink. Before she leaves Lilian bows slightly to all her guests, her cheeks burning when they giggle at what she thought was polite behavior.

A young brunette covers her mouth as she coughs into her tan palm rather unconvincingly. "It's not the Renaissance dear, no need for that kind of formality."

Despite her normally patient and good nature, Lilian finds herself glaring at the girl who couldn't be but a few years her senior. Who did she think she was? Calling her 'dear' with such a condescending tone? No wonder her father kept her sheltered, it's not like society was decent company. It was all insults and groping and alcohol and screaming brats and- she suddenly finds herself being dragged backward, away from the frowning men and women who moments ago had been as cheery as a… well she wasn't sure what pop culture considered a cheery icon to be, but whoever it was- that's how happy they'd been seconds prior to that inappropriate 'Renaissance' comment.

She jerks out of Crystal's iron grip and leads the way to the island in the kitchen, sitting down on a stool, fuming.

Her sort-of-aunt chuckles and dips a ladle into a bowl of orange liquid, pouring it into a tall glass and handing it to her with a knowing smile. "I think you could use this. You really need to lighten up hon."

Lilian looks at the drink, her brows narrowed. "I don't think I'm the one who needs it." She wraps shaking fingers around the glass, surprised by how angered the encounter made her. "I don't know why she had to be so rude. I was only trying to be nice." She just wasn't used to people talking to her like that… or maybe she just wasn't used to people in general….

"Well, I suppose you didn't realize it, buy you were giving that girl… the stink eye doesn't even come _close_ to describing the look on your face." Crystal purses her lips as she watches the tribute- to-be stirring the punch with a long, pale finger. "Lil, I can call you that, right?"

She shrugs, uncaring. "I guess so."

The older woman sits down beside her, a martini glass in one hand, a toothpick speared through olives in the other. She bites one, appearing contemplative. "I'm going to ask you something that's maybe a little personal, and I don't want you to tell your dad. Mkay?"

Lilian instantly stills, not liking where the conversation is going. "It's probably better if you don't then. I don't lie to my dad."

"Well it wouldn't be lying if you simply didn't tell him." She arches a brow challengingly. "And it's nothing really bad."

"Okaaay…."

She drops her gaze, tracing the lip of her glass with her finger. "Did you ever get out? Did you ever get to do… I don't know… normal teenage things?"

"What, you mean like shopping?" She reaches into a bowl of apples and plucks one from the bunch, taking a small bite out of the red flesh.

Crystal nods. "Yeah. Or going out on a date or partying."

Lilian snorts. "Right, like dad would let me do any of that." Her relation seems taken aback, and slightly… angry? She scrambles to right some wrong she had made. Her father was strict, but she loved him and didn't want anyone to think lowly of the way he treated her. It's not like he was keeping her prisoner…. The man was her best friend! "I mean, he taught me that relationships get in the way. They break your concentration, they're a distraction." She takes another bite, giving herself time to think of the right thing to say. "As soon as I win the Games I can get into all that stuff. I've got my whole life ahead of me, I'm not about to run out of time." _Unless I die. _

Lil can see that Crystal is thinking the exact same thing; she may not be good with people, but it didn't take a mentalist to identify that kind of doubt.

"It's just… you never got to do _anything_?" Crystal twists a lock of hair around her finger, chewing on her conspicuously plump bottom lip. "But… don't you see how this is going to affect you in the Games? How do you expect to get allies, to interact with others when you have no experience with making conversation? No practice whatsoever? I have complete faith in your athleticism, but… no offense hon, your people skills suck ass."

Lilian chokes on a gulp of her drink, the burning sensation intensified by the liquor. She laughs through the pain, clutching her stomach. "Sucks… what?" She holds a hand over her mouth as she muffles her giggles.

Crystal's eyes go wide. "Oh. My. God." She leans into her and clutches her hand. "You mean to tell me you've never heard that before?"

Lil shakes her head, her face crinkled with mirth. _What did that even mean? _

"Do… do you cuss?"

Lilian sits back and frowns. "Of course not. It's terribly undignified." Her father was extremely disciplined, and in turn expected her conduct to mirror his own. She wasn't exposed to any social norms such as nasty language, wasn't familiar with slang, and definitely wasn't used to being patronized by girls barely older than herself. And as for not having experience interacting with others, she didn't need it. Her dad had taught her about scare tactics, bribery, flirtation; the things her opponents would do to get her to drop her guard.

"How would you know if you've never tried it?"

Lil looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know…."

"Well try it!" Crystal seems way too excited about the whole ordeal… but how could she say no to such an expecting look?

"Um…" Quickly, she surveys the room to make sure her dad is nowhere to be found. He would go into cardiac arrest if he heard her use a _curse_ word. She leans over, putting her mouth close to Crystal's ear. "Douche bag."

Crystal's lips twitch as she tries to conceal some kind of reaction, but it's not long before they split apart to let loose a bout of guffaws. She leans over her seat, holding on to her stomach. "Are- are you serious?" She slaps her knee, not bothering to compose herself. "You're too much!"

Lilian frowns, feeling self-conscious. "What? You said I should say it!" Why was everyone laughing at her? Was she really so socially retarded?

Crystal looks at her with an incredulous expression and gestures as if something should be obvious. "Douche bag isn't a cuss word!"

Lil shushes her, paranoid that her dad will walk in at any moment. Fortunately he does _after_ the scandalous conversation. Both perk up and turn at the sound of someone tapping silverware against the bulb of a wine glass. "Can I have everyone's attention please?" A male's deep, bass voice booms throughout the room. Her dad is standing on top of the dining room table- looking so carefree that her entire world seems to slow to a complete stop. She'd never seen him behave in such a manner… why, of all days, did he decide to change everything about himself? First the party, and the fattening cake, and now… this? What was going on with him? And he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He never wore such informal clothing. Why did he seem so comfortable? Wasn't he the least bit concerned about the fact that his only daughter was about to sell her soul to the devil?

He searches the house with his coal colored eyes. "Where's Lil?"

Crystal waves a hand as the Lilian finds herself at a loss for words. "She's right here! Right next to me!" She yells these things as if they make her something special.

"Oh no," Her father groans and the room comes alive with jovial laughter. "Please tell me she hasn't brainwashed you in some way."

Lilian shakes her head almost imperceptibly, still befuddled by her dad's odd performance. Now he's making people laugh? Since when did he have a sense of humor? Where was this man when she needed a laugh, a smile?... And why was she so upset about all this? Was it because of the Reapings, which were only hours away, or was it because of some unearthed animosity she had towards her father?

He waves her over to him, and seconds later he's pulling her up onto the table with him. Why was he making them into such a spectacle? She wanted to puke. She didn't like audiences, especially not when she was wearing a plastic crown. How could he do this to her? To keep her away from people and friends and relatives, and then throw her into a sea of them? The shock was overwhelming. Didn't he understand what he was doing?

Lilian suppresses a grimace as her dad wraps a strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side affectionately. Affection? What. The. Hell. "Now this," He shouts to the room. "Is my second child." He points down and Lilian follows the direction of his finger to see her older brother standing a few feet away. He smiles and offers her a peace sign. She doesn't return the gesture, but instead turns away, not trusting herself to be civil. "That over there, is Aiden. He won his Hunger Games 11 years ago." The room erupts in applause, guests slapping her handsome sibling on his broad back and raising their glasses, toasting to his achievement. Lilian crosses her arms over her chest, warring with her mouth which is desperate to tell everyone off. _It's always been like this, Lil. It's never going to change unless you win. _"But!" The occupants quiet as her father holds up a finger. "It's time for another Huntington to bring back the title, Victor." He squeezes her shoulder. His cologne makes her nose wrinkle in distaste. "This is Lilian's time. She's going to reintroduce the family name. Panem has forgotten the about us, but we're about to be put back in the headlines. It's not just in training, not the perseverance or the dedication, or even, even the obsession!" This garners a spattering of chuckles, because everyone knows by now that it's quite certain Lilian doesn't know how to handle anything but a weapon. "It's in the genes! Blood is thicker than water, right? You can't argue with DNA. These two were _made _for the Games. They're machines. I've just kept them well oiled." He throws up his hands, as if refusing to accept any credit for what her brother has done, and she is about to do. "I bought this for you a long time ago, but had it engraved for you this morning." He takes a silver chain out of his pocket, the pendant two masterfully crafted crossed swords. Each was an inch long, the words 76th Hunger Games carved in delicate cursive into one, and her name into the other. He clasps it around her neck, and the charm falls just below her collarbone, cool against her sweaty skin.

The applause mounts to an almost unbearable roar. She grins, assuming it doesn't look at all convincing. Though she knew she was a wolf being thrown into an arena full of sheep, she couldn't help but feel that death was snapping at her heels.

Her father smiles at her and hugs her. Not in a maternal way, but in the way a fan might hug his favorite ball player. She wasn't his child. She was just his killing machine. And she would do whatever it took to make him proud of her. Whatever it took to make him look at her with love, not obsession. She would come home a hero, and everything would change. Things could be normal again. Maybe she would try out that acting thing after she got back.

She always was fond of fairytales.

**Braxton Graham, D1**

He tensed when he felt that feather-light touch grace his side, goosebumps rising on his flesh. Braxton knew without looking that she was tracing the bruise on his ribs, outlining the stained skin with the tips of her fingernails.

"Did you get this while training?"

Braxton scowled, sensing the daring tone in her voice. Frustrated, he grabbed her wrist and thrust her hand away from his person. "Yeah."

She sat up and wrapped her arms around her lean legs as she watched him pull on a shirt and fasten a leather belt around his hips. "I thought we were past this Braxton…" She trailed off, her black hair falling around her face in waves. She rubbed her legs and chewed on her bottom lip, looking hopeful.

He snorted, searching the room for his boots. "What the hell are you talking about?" He didn't have to say 'we' in order for her to understand, nor did he bother to sympathize with the hurt that twisted her angelic features.

She glared at his broad shoulders. "Can't you even _try _to be human? Of all days I think you would let your guard drop just a little on this one."

He cursed under his breath, trying his best to ignore her. Eventually she would shut up. "Where the hell are my shoes?"

She sighed, momentarily defeated. "I'll help you look for them."

_Like a charm, _he thought to himself. Fame was his favorite, though he'd never tell her that. As persistent as she was, she knew when to quit berating him about romantic shit. That's why he'd chosen her for his last night of freedom. He wasn't sure how often he'd get a good lay during the Games, if at all. If he was going to stay celibate for days, maybe even weeks, he was going to get the best there was to offer, and Fame was all too eager to do just that. Every time. Though he couldn't believe it when he had woken up in her bed, curled around her small figure. She gave him crap about dropping his guard, but what she didn't realize was that she _did_ have power. He _always_ left before the night was over. Their proximity and passion chipped away at his defense until his walls were left pocked and crumbling… and he didn't care for that at all. Needless to say, he decided to find himself a new girl when he came back Victor… Why did that thought make him uneasy? Desperate? She had _way _too much control over this relationship; he'd let her have the slightest bit of leash and she'd completely ran away with it.

Fame found one of his boots beneath the bed, and the other by the door. He took them from her without so much as a 'thank you'. She tightened a gray sheet around her body, frustration evident in her blue eyes. "Why are you angry with me?"

_Damn she knows me too well!_ He narrowed his eyes and shoved his left foot into the wrong boot. "I didn't say anything, did I?"

She huffed. "That's exactly the point you caveman. I'm not your damn servant! When I do something nice for someone I expect to be thanked. I thought that was a social norm, but I guess I was wrong."

He smirked. "I thought it was a social norm to pay someone for hard work. And considering the way you were going at me last night, I'd say you're not even close to compensation."

A bark of laughter escaped her. "I thought I was the whore?" He rolled his eyes as she continued, lacing up his boots as she stood over his hunched form. "That's what you go around telling all your buddies! Do you know what I've put myself through for you? My reputation is fucked! My mother thinks I'm the worst mistake of her life and my father won't even look at me! Everyone at school thinks I'm a slut. I've gotten more disgusting texts and seen enough bathroom graffiti about me to last a lifetime!"

He stood up, her nose at his chest. "And whose fault is that?" He brushed past her to the bathroom, closing the door in her face when she followed.

"It's yours you asshole! I'm done putting myself down for the awful things you've made me do and say!"

He shook his head, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Braxton's side was hurting like a bitch! Leave it up to his old man to lay a beating on him the night before the Reapings. He tuned Fame out as he ran some water and gulped down four orange pills.

She beat on the door with her fist. "I want you out of my apartment and out of my life! I'm glad you're going to Volunteer! Let the world have at you! I tried to be there for you! I'm your only _real_ friend! And I could be more than that; I could make you happier than you could ever dream of being! But you won't even let me! You won't try at all! You think you're just a walking enigma, but the truth is that everyone in this District see's right through the act. You're just a coward! A weakling who's training to kill a bunch of kids way younger than himself and a lot less powerful! You can't step up to the _real_ challenge! You're six foot-fucking-three and you let your_ father_, a man _half_ your size, beat the shit out of you for kicks!"

His grip on the sink tightened until his knuckles were bone white. Whirling, he burst out of the bathroom, making Fame gasp in astonishment. He stared down at her, fuming. "You had better shut your mouth." He said the words slowly, with dark warning.

She stepped back, shaking. "Or what? You gonna hit me? Make me feel the pain that you've had to go through every waking moment of your life since you were able to hold a sword?" Her expression softened. "I make you feel better, don't I? I take it away, for a little while. I can tell." She approached him cautiously, resting a small hand on his chest.

He wouldn't hit her. As pissed off as she could make him, _she was his favorite_. And strange as it may seem to outsiders, he wasn't in the habit of beating women. It was… degrading, in its own way. He kept his belongings in mint condition, and the thought hadn't even crossed his mind to inflict physical damage upon his most valuable possession.

"I could do that all the time, you know. I could be there whenever you needed me to be. I could lo-" She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut, and then opening them again, tears collecting on her thick lashes. "I don't want you to go. There may not be a lot of people who are willing to tell you that, but I am doing it right now."

He sneered, disgusted by her sentiments. He couldn't stand it when she cried. It made him want to choke puppies. He pushed past her, and of course she followed. She had to jog to keep up; his stride was so much longer than hers. "If you go, I won't be here for you when you get back, _if you do live_. Even though you've ruined me by society's standards, all men want the same thing. I'll take myself to Hale. He's always wanted me; he doesn't care if I'm used goods."

He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly uncaring. Of course the idea of Hale putting his hands on Fame riled him, but perhaps it was all for the better. She was obviously mad with power. He shouldn't have let her think she meant something to him; he shouldn't have gone to her so often. Now that he thought about it, he had indulged in her company at least twice a week. And the late night texting? How could he have been so ignorant? So weak? He didn't need her, not her mind, heart, or body. He wouldn't lose his head like that ever again.

She started throwing stuff as he went out the door. "You son of a bitch! You're not even going to say anything?" A metal figurine flew past his head, missing him by inches. He smiled. _I always did like that about you, you never gave up without a fight. _He couldn't deny the slight pang of misery he felt at the thought of losing her, his prize. He reached into his pocket and fished for the keys to his car, unlocking it with the remote. He watched, amused, as she ran back into the apartment to collect more items to throw. She reappeared, in nothing but her undergarments, with an armful of kitchenware and high heeled shoes. She chucked the stuff at him, launching them at his Mustang like she was a trying out for a major league baseball team. She had horrible aim… that or she had no actual intention of striking him with anything… it was probably the latter. Fame could never hurt him, not really. She was too innocent, too… weak.

He opened the driver's side door, resting his arm above the window as he angled himself to settle into the seat. "I will be coming back. And when I do, you'll be waiting for me. You'll always wait for me, but I won't want you anymore. You're too much work, hon." With that, he lowered himself into the cab and shut the door. He started the ignition and revved the engine, trying to resist the urge to go back to her for one last kiss. "See you at the Reapings, babe!"

She howled with rage and threw everything out of her arms, crying, and raced back into her room, slamming the door behind her.

He watched the apartment complex disappear in his rear view mirror, and pressed the pedal to the floor, the machine roaring in the silence of the early morning back roads. He turned up the stereo until he could feel the bass thumping in his chest, tapping his fingers to the beat.

Once he pulled into the garage, he felt his heart begin to pound. He parked next to his dad's red sports car, cutting the engine with the quick press of a button. He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, closing his eyes against the memories of last night.

Luckily the rum bottle hadn't broken against him; Fame would have given him hell over it. He gritted his teeth as he fought to keep from cradling the injury in his hand. He couldn't go to a doctor, they asked too many questions. They did more harm than good; at least, they always proved to in the past. Braxton's mom would take him to get an arm braced only to bring him back home so he could have a shoulder dislocated by the same person who had put him in the ER in the first place. They learned real quick it was better if he just took the hits like a man and dealt with the pain that followed. He sat, calming his nerves. So he shouldn't have been surprised when the knock on the window jolted him out of near unconsciousness. He almost pissed himself when he saw _her _face pressed against the glass, nose, lips, and forehead squished against it. He frowned as she stepped away from the door, giggling as he hauled himself out of the car. "I heard you come in!"

His heart leapt in his chest. "Did anyone else?" It was only five in the morning, and though reason told him his dad should be too drunk from last night's party to be awake so early, he couldn't help the paranoia consuming him.

Corey shook her head, her brown braids whipping back and forth. "Nope. Just me."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why are you up at this time of the morning?"

She shrugged, popping her lower lip out. "I just thought that maybe I could talk my older brother out of getting himself killed. Some sisters are like that you know, they kind of don't hate their brothers."

He raised a brow and making his way into the house with his nine year old sibling tripping on his heels. "Most girls your age don't say stuff like that."

She shrugged again. "You grow up fast under this roof. Dad makes sure of that…."

He turned on her, his eyes flashing with fury, "Did he do something to you last night?"

"_No,_" She drew out. "I just mean collectively."

Braxton let out a breath of relief. His father had yet to take out his anger on Corey, and the day he did would be the day hell froze over. No one had the right to lay a finger on his baby sister, not even his dad. He would happily take the brunt of all the abuse if it meant Corey was safe. It was the only downside to volunteering, leaving her behind to fend for herself. He would have to talk to his mom pretty soon, hopefully before their dad woke up. He needed to make sure she would keep an eye on her and remind the kid to watch her mouth. Though Corey took a great deal after their soft-spoken mother, she inherited that stubborn will to defend herself against the barest hint of animosity from their dad. He wasn't sure the raving ass would be able to keep his hands to himself if he got to drinking and there was no one around but his frail sis.

The kitchen smelled like disinfectant spray, evidence that his mom had been hard at work relieving her stress. There was not a doubt in his mind that she had finished the whole house hours ago and was now out catering to her precious rose bushes. She could get so wrapped up in her garden that she could look up and the sun would be setting on the horizon, a whole day passed by and never stopped to let her know it had started.

He scavenged the fridge, finding a plate of breakfast with his name written in sharpie on the saran wrap. Settling down at the table, he dug into the meal while his sister skipped into the living room to crank up some cartoons. He fought off grins as he listened to her laugh hysterically at the sorrowful predicaments a particular dog found himself in at every twist and turn throughout the show. She would mimic her favorite jokes or statements, cataloging them in her brain to use in future banter. As mature as she was, she still exhibited childish behavior. He wished she would do it more often. The thought of her growing up made him worry that her interest in cartoons would transfer to boys. He grimaced, thinking that she could end up like Fame, hoping for an impossible love with a man like him. In fact, it was so unappealing he lost his appetite altogether. He chugged a glass of milk and pushed away from the table, wiping his chin with a napkin. "I'm going to find mom. You stay here and watch cartoons."

She nodded, not looking at him. _She's mad at me,_ he considered bitterly,_ but she won't be when I come back. _Corey had a good way of hiding her resentment, but he was trained to see hostility in his opponents, and it was plain as day in her manner of conduct. "She out in the garden?"

Corey nodded again, irritated that he was interrupting her show.

He decided to leave it at that and opened the back sliding glass door, stepping outside and closing it gently as it squeaked traitorously in its tracks. He jumped, clearing the staircase, and landing on his feet with catlike balance. He rounded the corner of the house and approached the gate to the privacy fence that lead into his mother's little haven.

Braxton found her crouched beneath her prized climbing rose bush. The buds were small, but plentiful, and the plant towered above the garden like a shrine. She was wearing a ball cap, her platinum blonde ponytail pulled through the opening in the back. Shoving his hands in his pockets he stomped up to her, stopping directly behind her. A shadow fell over his mother and she looked up, yanking her headphones down around her neck, her face lighting up at his presence. "Hey, baby." She smiled brightly, and hastily returned her attention to pruning. He didn't miss the red in her eyes or the puffy skin around them. Everything about her screamed 'depressed'… 'tired'.

She had given up on him a long time ago, deeming him a lost cause. There was nothing she could do or say that would keep him from Volunteering. She had simply decided to love him as best she could; showering him with praise which was often inappropriate, babying him to the extent that he actually grew _used _to it. It was disgusting, but it was harmless. He let her get away with it.

He swallowed, watching the back of her head, hearing the faint sound of a sad violin from her MP5. "Hey." He looked away, staring off into space. "You'll watch Corey while I'm gone? Make sure she doesn't run her mouth and get her ass in trouble." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "It won't be for long, but I don't know what he'll do when I'm not around while he's-"

His mom stilled. "Your father won't touch her. She's not that important to him. She doesn't deserve his attention… fortunately."

Braxton was surprised by that little retort; his mother wasn't one to sling mud. "Right…. Just keep an eye on her. Maybe force her to garden with you or something."

She nodded, making no eye contact. _Well I'm just pissing everybody off today. _

"Are you going to be there?"

Her hands started to shake, and she missed a stem with the cutters. "I don't know if I can…. Does that make me a bad mother?"

He shrugged, knowing she couldn't see the action. "How should I know? It won't hurt my feelings if you don't show, if that's what you mean."

He heard her sigh as she sat back on her haunches, shaking her head and slowly removing her gloves. She got up, turning around to face him. "I don't know what to do to make you stay." She lifted her fingers to his face, cupping his cheek. "Isn't there something you want that will keep you here? You're at the top of your class, you've done us all proud. Let someone else go. It wouldn't even be a challenge for you."

What was it with the women in his life? Why did they all insist that the Games weren't a challenge? That his dream wasn't one worth having, or fighting for? Wasn't there a single female on the planet that understood? He scowled, ignoring the twinge of pain in his gut. "Then what was the damn point in all the training?" He massaged his forehead. "I'm not having this conversation again. I'm going and that's final. I just came out here to ask that you make sure Corey stays out of his way."

She dropped her hand, wrapping her arms around her waist. He never could get his head around how anyone so lovable and innocent managed to end up with his father. She rubbed her biceps, appearing chilly. "Alright then." She looked up at him, being a foot shorter. "I guess all I can say is come back in one piece."

He nodded, suppressing a groan of annoyance when she hugged him, and stepped out of her embrace. "I'm going to get ready now."

And with that, he left, not a doubt in his mind that he would see her again.

* * *

**The Reaping**

Brindle, the escort, a lean man, his age indecipherable, touched his lips to the microphone, practically tonguing the thing. "In truth, I know I don't even need to reach my hand into either of these bowls. District One has always brought pride to this nation and never failed to produce Volunteers for both genders. There are many Districts who could learn to follow in the footsteps of you, you patriots. The Capitol admires your bravery, your devotion to your country and government." He braced himself on the podium, squinting against the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. "But tradition is sacred, and so, ladies first."

He dipped his hand into the bowl off to his right, opening the folded paper with painful, slow movements. He leaned into the mic, a dramatic pause the only thing separating Lilian from her destiny. "Rye-"

"I Volunteer!" Lilian leapt into the air, her hand thrust high. Her frantic cry was heard even against the rumble of the other girls clamoring for domination.

He pointed at her, his eyes brightening. "I believe I heard you first, young lady. Come up."

She pushed her way through the crowd, escorted by a pair of peacekeepers up to the stage, as was customary. The audience roared with approval, and she felt her heart jump up into her throat, threatening to block any words from coming forth. _You're making a mistake._ She forced a smile and waved, the mass of bodies before her like a sea, menacing and omnipotent. _You can back out. _

"What's your name, dear?"

He pulled her forward, thrusting the mic in her face. "Lilian Huntington." _Too late. _She could already smell the blood, hear the screams, and taste the insanity that she would encounter in the arena.

He inquired after her reason for volunteering, and she answered with a voice that came from somewhere deep within; it was solemn and strong. "To win, for my District, and for my father."

The flood of people cheered in approval, the noise deafening. She fought the temptation to cover her ears.

Brindle took his time fishing for the name of the male tribute, opening the card with delicate caution. He didn't have the first syllable out before a young man, towering in height and laden with muscle parted the crowd with his war-like-cry. "I Volunteer!" he didn't give Brindle the time to accept the invitation before he was pounding up the stairs, loping across the stage with a powerful, imposing stride.

He came to a halt beside their mentor, grinning in a devilish way. The girls swooned, the boys hollered approval of his candidacy.

"Your name, son?" The escort seemed completely unafraid, quite familiar with the monster tributes District one was infamous for yielding.

The boy took the mic in his hand, waving to the crowd. "My name is Braxton Graham. I'm ready to win this thing, for you guys, for my family, for my country!" _For my dad. _

As swiftly as a foggy dream comes and goes, they were swept away to say goodbye to their loved ones, floundering in a catatonic state. Neither of them were able to grasp the severity of the contract they had willingly submitted themselves to. Two young souls, desperate to live up to their father's expectations, to escape the torture of a life of pain, and both willing to do the unthinkable to make that fantasy a reality.

Watch out little lambs. The lions have arrived.

**A/N: O.O Sorry it took so long to get this out. I absolutely refuse to post ANYTHING without editing it a minimum of three times (which takes me a while). I hope you guys liked these two- lord knows I had a TON of fun writing them. Seriously, I don't know what happened to my authority. They just did whatever the hell they wanted to (A good thing?)! As you can see, my chapters are very long. I fully expect future 'Games' chapters to be 10,000+ words. **

**I tried to deviate from the normal 'I wake up and eat breakfast, get dressed, ride to the Reapings in my bitchin Escalade' routine. **

**As you can see, both Lilian and Braxton have destructive relationships with their fathers (hence the name of the chapter). Lilian has been sheltered her whole life, learning combat and survival skills, but never allowed to experience the freedom of a normal teenage life, thus her problem with communication. **

**Braxton is the total opposite. He's had too much freedom. He knows how to own people, but not how to escape the control of his abusive father (who will make several appearances in flashbacks). Both are VERY dynamic and I can't wait to see how their characters develop throughout the story. **

**Hope you like my writing. I know it's not 100% perfect, but I really gave it my all and plan to for the rest of the story! **

**Also, I have a DeviantArt page set up for this SYOT. I will be submitting artwork of my own and encourage everyone to take part, even if you suck at drawing, I would love to see you bring these tributes to life! PM me links or post them in your reviews and I'll be sure to put them on my profile AND in the chapters to come! **

**Deuces! **

**P.S. Reviews are YUMM-AY in my TUMM-AY! (and did anyone see the new ****Catching Fire**** preview?... HOLY FREAKING HELL I ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS I WAS SO EXCITED!)**


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